


Mirrorball

by cowboykylo69



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Age Difference, Banter, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Disco, Dom/sub, Drinking, F/M, Flirting, Masturbation, Name-Calling, Smoking, Smut, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylo69/pseuds/cowboykylo69
Summary: Your first time meeting detective Flip Zimmerman is out on the dance floor.
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

The cool September night nipped gently at your skin as you made your way into the local disco. Dressed in your best white baby tee, the best fit flared jeans you owned, and the perfect white disco heels your blood was pumping and you were ready to dance the night away. You didn’t bother bringing your trusty denim jacket because as soon as you hit the dance floor, which would be immediately upon entrance, you knew you would have no more need for it.

No matter how excited you were for your weekly escape on the dance floor, this was the first night butterflies fluttered in your stomach without relent. You shook your head, remembering almost too vividly the conversation you had over the phone with your old college friend, Patrice. She would also be attending the disco tonight with her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s… _work partner._

This is where things got tricky for both you and Patrice. Her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s work partner were cops. Not exclusively cops, (they made sure to always distinguish themselves as “detectives”) but still, cops. And you and Patrice did NOT fuck with cops.

That was until the KKK bust about a year ago. Patrice battled with her personal morals for a long time on whether she should pursue her relationship with Ron, but you had encouraged her to see where it went. She clearly had feelings for him and he cared for her as well, so for once you told her to follow her gut, no matter what his job was. And after that infamous KKK case was closed (or more so, thrown away) Ron was more of a detective than a cop and well, that was good enough for Patrice. And you were happy for her.

Now, this is where things got tricky for _you_. You had already planned to go dancing tonight; seeing as it was Friday night and dancing at the disco was your weekly Friday night activity. Patrice said she would be joining with Ron and now, somehow, mysteriously, _suspiciously_ , Ron’s partner, Flip Zimmerman, who just so happened to be as single as you and quite literally the most beautiful man in Colorado Springs, was also tagging along for the ride. This would either be the most awkward, third-wheeling night of your life or… well, that was about the only outcome you could see coming from tonight.

You had never actually met Flip before, but based on what you've heard about him from either Patrice or Ron, you could not imagine a disco being this man’s idea of a fun time. He seemed old, even for his age. Sure he was older than you, but he seemed like an actual old man. Grumpy, stubborn, sassy and just plain rude to everyone and anyone. A total grouch.

You rolled your eyes as you approached the door, your last chances for bailing leaving you as you waved to the bouncer, a familiar face, entered the building and headed straight to the bar for your first drink of the night.

//

Ron and Patrice pulled up to the disco in their car, Flip hot on their trail in his truck, parking next to one another in the parking lot. Flip’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel from how hard he was gripping it on the way over, he felt like crashing his truck just for an excuse to not come but he felt like he may regret that decision sooner rather than later.

_You’re_ going to be there.

Flip’s never met you, but he’s heard about you through Ron and Patrice who never seem to stop bothering him about it. He appreciates the effort but they’ve gone from endearing to straight up fucking annoying. Flip loves Ron, his brother-in-crime, so to speak, and he has a soft spot for Patrice as well, but he could not imagine you to live up to all the hype they’ve given you at this point.

No offence, of course. You were just some kid to him.

A knock at his window startled him, erasing any image of you he was trying to conjure up in his mind. _What would you be wearing? What colour would your eyes be? Would you dance? Did you like to dance? Did you drink? What drink do you typically order?_

“Zimmerman!” Ron said, pressing his forehead against Flip’s window causing Flip to roll his eyes and unbuckle himself from his seat which he hadn’t even done yet, so wrapped up in overthinking the night ahead of him, overthinking about _you_.

“Can’t open the door if you’re pressed against it like that, Rookie.”

Ron backed away, going to wrap his arm around Patrice’s waist as Flip got out of the car and slammed the door behind him a little louder than he probably should have.

“M’not even a Rookie anymore, partner.” Ron teased, pulling Patrice alongside him as the three of them made their way into the disco.

“Yeah you keep telling yourself that, Rookie.” Flip grumbled, causing Patrice to giggle and Ron to shoot her a glare. The trio made their way into the joint and loud dance music quickly flooded them.

The place was absolutely packed, even for a Friday night. Made it seem like Colorado Springs was the most happening town in the West. Sweaty bodies moving and grooving to the music like it was still the seventies. The giant dance floor took up most of the main floor, one side of it lined with a bar that was clearly stocking any drink one could think of. A short staircase near the back of the dance floor led to a slightly elevated platform filled with a large seating area lined with couches and booths for people who just wanted to enjoy the atmosphere, music, alcohol and/or drugs. Flip wondered which crowd you would be a part of.

Patrice said your name and Flip froze, “she should be around here somewhere. I know she got here before us.” Patrice said over the music.

Ron nodded and Flip felt his hands get clammy. Why the fuck did he come to this, he wondered? He loves a good disco just as much as the next person, but this weird blind date situation was not sitting right with him. The three of them made their way through the dance floor towards the staircase at the back, trying to get a bit of elevation to have a better chance at spotting you.

The song changed and the crowd erupted in a cheer, it was a popular one, Flip knew that. You would have to be living under a rock not to. As they climbed the staircase and came to rest against the banister, the crowd made a bit of room near the middle of the dance floor for a duo who started to groove together hypnotically to the beat. Patrice giggled and clapped her hands, covering her mouth to hide her wide smile.

“Oh my god, that’s her.” She laughed giddily, tugging on Ron’s arm. Flip looked to the two girls dancing, the two who once seemed so far away and swallowed up by the crowd, now seemed so much closer and clearly in his line of sight. Which one were you…

“The one in the jeans.” Ron answered, reading Flip’s mind. He gave him a knowing smile and went back to casually grooving with Patrice as all three of them watched you dance with a girl you didn’t even know.

//

You both laughed at each other as the song went on, your bodies moving with ease as you danced around and with one another, tugging on each other's arms to spin or saucily moving your bodies just close enough together for people to stare. You didn’t know her, the song had just come on and you both gasped at the same time. She looked at you and asked you to dance, why would you say no? She was pretty and you felt a friendly competition coming on. And it was hardly a competition at that, she clearly had you beat, but it was all in good spirits, it was just nice to lose yourself with someone else to one of the most popular songs of the last three years.

//

You shimmered and shined from the side lines where Flip watched you. He felt dumbstruck, like a complete fool, watching you dance with another woman. The way your jeans clung to your body, yet swayed alongside your feet.

Christ, you were a fucking vision, Flip thought. Now the nerves were really going to get the best of him. Soon enough you would find the three of them and he would have to have a conversation with you about something other than that crazy fucking dancing you were doing. And he didn’t even know you, how the fuck was this an ideal situation to meet someone in? Why did he let Ron and Patrice convince him to do this? Why were you so fucking beaut-

Flip pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his flannel pocket, popping a single cig out and lighting it quickly, trying to calm his nerves before they got the best of him. He took a long, long drag and continued to watch you through the cloud of smoke he blew from his mouth.

The song abruptly ended, sending the crowd in a light cheer before the next one transitioned seamlessly into the stuffy, humid air. Some people around you and your lady-friend applauded you both and you seemed a bit embarrassed, maybe not having realized people were really, _really_ watching. Flip thought that was cute. He watched you hug the girl goodbye as she headed off with her friends again, and you headed to the bar.

_Fuuuuck_ , fuck.

“Anyone want a drink?” Flip asked, worrying his lip between his teeth as he kept his eyes trained on you, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips and rubbing his clammy hands together to appear more... normal?

“Oh yeah, could you get me a-”

“Great, I’ll get that.” Flip cut Ron off, just needing an excuse to get away and see you up close without out right saying: _Okay time to go make a complete fucking fool of myself to our ‘mutual’ friend._

Almost a head taller than everyone else on the floor, it was easy for Flip to keep his eyes on you as he sauntered over to the bar, mentally giving himself a pep talk that he didn’t usually need. Well, he didn’t usually hit on women in bars or clubs or discos, he was fine being single, it was actually women that pursued him, making it easy for him to charm them even though it never lasted longer than a few weeks at a time. But now he was the one making the move and it scared the shit out of him. Uncharted territory.

The closer he got to you, the more he could make out of your features, and the more he was regretting his decision to come and see you all by himself. He needed encouragement, maybe liquid encouragement, which he stupidly hadn't gotten yet. It should have been the first thing he’d done when he got here. And this fucking cigarette wasn’t helping like it usually did.

A few bar stools away from you now, (the bar seeming to drag on into infinity), he realized there was some schmuck sitting next to you, who you weren’t even paying any mind to. What a perfectly good seat gone to waste.

“Beat it, pal.” Flip grunted, cigarette between his lips, tapping the man roughly on the shoulder. Either the guy recognized him as a cop or just wasn’t in the mood for any trouble, he got up and left immediately, leaving the spot next to you vacant and cold.

//

You heard him coming. You knew he was watching you. You saw all of them come in and watched observingly as they made their way through the joint and up the steps. You had seen them from the corner of your eye as you put on a little show with your new friend. You liked the way Flip looked when he was entranced, you like the way it felt for him to devour you with his eyes.

“Beat it, pal.” That was the first time you had heard his voice and you tried to suppress the shiver it sent up your spine. So deep and bassy. You kept your head straight ahead, occasionally looking down at your drink, fiddling with it in your hands.

It felt like the man who was sitting next to you flew off his chair and it was suddenly filled with the most radiating, warm energy you think you had ever felt emitted off another person. Cigarette smoke filled your senses and fogged your mind, you could see him blowin git out of his nose in your peripheral vision.

Flip had come to sit next to you, his thighs so wide that his knees nearly spread enough to knock into yours.

“ _Detective_.” You greeted cooly, taking a sip from your drink and avoiding eye contact. Flip greeted you back just as cooly, throwing your name back at you. You don’t think your name sounded so good falling off of someone’s lips before. You internally groaned.

“Quite the little show you put on out there with your friend.” Flip said, taking another exaggerated drag from his cigarette, cheeks hollowing out slightly.

“Stranger.” You said, taking another sip, continuing to avoid his burning stare. You could feel his eyes on you and the temptation to look was almost overpowering, you avoided it like you would Medusa.

“What?”

“She was a stranger, I don’t know her. _Didn’t_ know her. She gave me her number.” You giggled into your glass, taking your final sip from the now empty glass, setting it down on the countertop.

Flip bit his lip. Why were you so fucking sexy? You wouldn’t even look at him. He suppressed the urge to grab your face and turn it himself to make you look at him. Maybe you’d like that, he thought.

“Two mojitos. With ice.” Flip called to the bartender. You turned to look at him then, while his head was turned away in the opposite direction. You soaked in what you could before he turned back to look at you.

His hair practically begged for your hands to run through it. It looked soft, wavy and just stupidly perfect. He was wearing the world’s tightest red flannel with a white shirt poking from underneath the unbuttoned collar. The buttons strained against his chest, god he was probably so fit, how big did he have to be to make the buttons look like they were about to burst? Even his biceps were pulling the material taught. His thighs, which you had noticed when he sat down next to you, were equally big and covered by a lovely denim, you did love a man in jeans. You giggled to yourself, which caused him to look back at you.

Fuck, those eyes. _Honey, caramel, cinnamon, chocolate, brown sugar._

“What’s so funny doll?”

“I just didn’t take you for a cocktails kind of guy.” You laughed again. You weren’t trying to make fun of him, you just couldn’t help it. It was the alcohol, not the nerves, you told yourself.

“What makes you say that?” He smirked, you could tell he was trying not to but you could see the way his lips twitched, then proceeded to curl around his cigarette seductively.

“Oh nothing.” You swatted the air with your hand, wanting desperately to change the subject before you accidentally mentioned how large he was and how funny it is to picture a tiny little cocktail glass in his enormous hands.

Your two glasses were quickly placed in front of Flip who handed the bartender a bill. He slid a glass over to you and your fingers brushed as you took it from him. He was warm. You wanted to touch him again. He put his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray.

“Thanks.” You muttered, quickly bringing the glass to your lips, needing more in your system to distract you from how distractingly mesmerizing he is. He had good taste, the drink was perfectly sweet with just enough kick to keep you buzzed. You both locked eyes as you took a sip from your respective drinks, your cheeks feeling hot from his gaze, it made you look away as you set your glass back on the countertop.

Why did you keep looking away from him? Flip began to worry that his presence was unwanted and he debated just getting up and letting you enjoy your evening with your new friend and refilled drink. Maybe he was coming on too intensely? He had definitely gotten that one before, he wasn’t sure how many rookies at the police dept had quit or been re-stationed because of his intensity alone. He just likes to think that they weren’t cut out for the job, and besides, if they couldn’t handle Flip Zimmerman, well, maybe they couldn’t handle-

“Do you want to dance?” His mouth cut his own train of thought off, like half of him was bored of hearing himself think obsessively and waste more of the night not on you. His abruptness made you giggle and you finally looked back at him, swaying gently from side to side in your barstool. Flip thinks he’d like to have you do that in his lap, swaying from side to side, swivelling carelessly...

“I didn’t take you for a dancer.” You maintain eye contact now. More confident than before, challenging him.

“That’s the second thing you’ve assumed about me tonight. And the second thing you’ve been terribly wrong about.” Flip chuckled, downing his drink in one final gulp. You watched the way he threw his head back, the way he swallowed, the way his throat bobbed. You wanted to touch his neck, press your lips across the delicate skin, bruise him.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Flip pushed. He was beginning to think you liked being difficult, that you liked making him work for it, liked him coaxing your answers out of you. Maybe he did. He hoped you liked it too, you little defiant-

“What if I told you I don’t dance with men?” There was a glimmer in your eye. Flip decided right then and there that you were evil, you fucking temptress. You were doing this on purpose.

Motherfucker.

Just how far could he push you before you gave in? Before you gave up on this stupid fucking act?

“Then I would be incredibly disappointed to hear that.” Flip frowned, teasingly. Maybe he should just get up from his seat and find Ron and Patrice, two could play at your dumb little game. He did in fact stand up, he straightened himself out and without a single glance back at you, he turned and walked away. The only thing stopping him was your hand wrapped firmly around his wrist. He looked back expectantly, trying to hide his knowing smirk.

So you did have a limit to which you were willing to play.

“What if I told you… I’d make an exception. Just this once.”

Oh, Flip liked the sound of that.

Without another word, Flip unbuttoned and shrugged off his flannel, placing it on the bar countertop, leaving him in just his white t-shirt that clung way too well to his body. Fuck, what were you getting yourself into? He really was huge, massive. You resisted the urge to just climb him and beg him to take you home. But you didn’t role that way, and you were not about to make _that_ many exceptions for one man.

But he was one hell of a man…

“Keep an eye on this.” Flip called to the bartender, referring to his flannel, without breaking his eyes from yours. _Honey, caramel, cinnamon, chocolate -_

“Ready?” He held his hand out to you. The song that was playing faded and another came on. Without fail, you recognized this one as well and you couldn’t help the smile that threatened to split your face in two. Be it the alcohol or Flip, your cheeks burned and were growing numb from how hard you were trying to stop smiling. You looked down at his hand and bit your lip, looking back up at him through your lashes and nodded.

“Ready.”

Flip pulled you from your seat and whisked you onto the dance floor with more force than you were expecting, causing you to yelp and grab onto his bicep for balance. He placed a hand on the small of your back to steady you, now in the heat of the dance floor surrounded by glistening bodies. You let out a small laugh, a nervous one. Somehow, you forgot how to move your feet, forgot what it felt like to feel the rhythm of a song, lose yourself in the music and just move. You had been dancing with that girl, what? Twenty minutes ago? And now you could barely move a muscle underneath the intense gaze of detective Flip Zimmerman. He seemed to find this amusing.

“Come on, you’ve got this.” Flip mused, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. He placed his hands on your hips, making your eyelids and limbs feel heavy. He helped you sway them in time with his, your eyes immediately going to his hips watching him as he watched you become more and more comfortable dancing around him.

Maybe you really didn’t dance with men after all, Flip thought.

Eventually you were able to shake off your nerves and tell yourself to just pretend he wasn’t there, or pretend he was that girl from earlier. You both began to sort of dance by yourselves but still in very close proximity to each other, the occasional graze of his hand along your shoulder, waist, hips, ass bringing you out of your head and back to the dance floor with the reality of the fact that you were indeed dancing with a cop and people were staring at you. Or maybe they were staring at Flip who just so happened to be a stupidly incredible dancer.

For his height and length at which his limbs protruded out from his body, he should not have that much control over them, that much coordination. But he’s a detective, you remembered. He fought in ‘Nam, he was a trained professional in the police force, of course he was coordinated, of course he was skilled with his body. He had to use it _everyday_. He had to be strong, tough, resilient, a wall of pure muscle.

Fuck, you were starting to understand why Patrice threw some of her cares into the wind when it came to Ron being a cop, detective, whatever. Flip was undeniably sexy and as you danced with him out on the middle of the floor, you didn’t think you could want him anymore than you did in that moment. The way his muscles rippled underneath his shirt as he moved to the music was utterly hypnotizing.

Before you could even realize what you were doing, you dropped low to the floor, reaching your hands to glide up his entire body slowly, slowly, slowly, passing over his muscular thighs, dragging dangerously close to his crotch, his hips, his waist, over his toned stomach, his hard pecs, scratching at his neck as you looped one hand around his throat, then strutting around him in a circle, letting your hand run along his neck, over his shoulders. You giggled to yourself stupidly, hugging him from behind, suddenly embarrassed at that little show you just put on, wanting desperately to disappear behind him. Flip grabbed you from behind, splitting his legs open and somehow sliding you between them, underneath him and then back to face him again.

He looked down at you with that same look from before; hunger, starvation, thirst. You were both still dancing even though the movements blurred in your mind, you felt like the two of you were moving in slow motion as your bodies grew closer, closer, closer together, the music fading out as well. The only sensation that seemed to knock you out of your trance was Flip’s hand slipping into yours, interlocking his fingers through your smaller ones. He was warm, so, so warm and you didn’t want to let go. You tugged on his hand to bring it up to your lips, to kiss, but he tugged harder. He tugged your whole arm, actually. He tugged your whole arm and your whole body followed, off the dance floor, through the crowd, through the back door, around the corner till you were against the brick wall, outside.

You were breathless, your ears ringing from the adrenaline of being so close to him, _dancing_ with him but also from the loud music that was still pounding beyond those two doors next to you. Flip stood in front of you, he fished out his cigarette pack from his jeans and you wondered when he put it in his pants pocket, you remembered it being in his flannel pocket. Why were you thinking about that? Maybe you were tipsy, or drunk off of him.

Flip stuck the cigarette between his teeth and lit it effortlessly, like he had done it a million times. He probably has. He maintained eye contact with you up against that wall as he sucked and sucked the toxins out of his cigarette, his cheeks hollowing beautifully before blowing the smoke out through his nose, making you want to whimper and drop to your knees. If you had been any drunker you think you might have.

He took annoyingly slow steps towards you, and with each one you felt your breaths become heavier and heavier, like he was pressing a weight against your chest the closer he got to you. Another puff from his cigarette.

“Hold this for me.” He said suddenly, holding his cigarette out for you to take. You nodded silently, not trusting your own voice as you took it from him, your fingers brushing against one another; _electricity, voltage, lightning._

Flip grabbed the back of your head, fisted your hair between his fingers, tipped your head back and shoved his tongue down your throat. You moaned into his open mouth, shameless as your lips wrapped around his, wet and slippery. His other hand, now free from his cigarette thanks to you, came to grab your cheeks between his thumb and index, pinching your jaw softly to pry your mouth open and keep it that way so he could devour you more easily.

He backed you up against the wall, his muscular thigh coming to rest between your legs, pressing right up against your most sensitive area, causing you to moan into his mouth again. He pulled your hair harder, groaned against your lips and you desperately ground yourself against his thigh, you couldn't help it, it was right there applying the right amount of pressure and you were beginning to seriously unravel for him. Putty in his hands. His mustache and goatee tickled your face but it only spurred you on more to kiss him with equal fervour, now wanting to devour him yourself. Your tongues massaged one anothers, over, under and back again, you had truly never been kissed like this before.

Flip suddenly pulled away, gasping for breath and you audibly whined at the loss of contact, your lips begging for his to come back. At your complaint, he gave you a few teasingly small pecks before resting his forehead against yours again.

“I bet you think you’re real cute, dancing out there like that.” Flip said, his voice the deepest you had heard it all night, you let out a satisfied hum. You decided then that you would do anything he asked you.

“Hmm, you seem to think so.” Your eyes boring into his, then back down to his lips again. So plump, swollen and red. You did that to him. You wanted to keep doing that to him.

“You sure are a fucking brat, aren’t you?” He spat at you with pure hunger in his voice, pushing your body harder against the wall, causing you to whimper and screw your eyes shut momentarily, the slight pain turning into pleasure. How was he doing this to you?

“It doesn’t seem to be bothering you that much, the fact that I’m a _brat_.” You spat back at him with equal want. Flip groaned and tightened his fist in your hair even more than he previously had.

“Honey, you have no idea what it’s doing to me.”

His voice was quiet all of a sudden. The need not gone from his voice, but his voice just above a whisper. It rumbled his chest when he spoke. You reached your hand down to palm him through his jeans and you weren’t surprised to find how hard he was there, but you gasped at its size. Flip gabbed your wrist and pinned it above your head, baring his teeth at you slightly. He was holding himself back, you could tell, it was like it almost pained him.

“Flip, please,” You begged, your first time begging on the first date. “Please, I need to touch you.”

You closed your eyes and rested your head back against the brick wall in defeat. You felt Flip’s lips ghost over the skin of your neck before he sank his teeth into the skin causing you to cry out his name. He quickly pulled his teeth away from your skin and licked around the irritated flesh several times, pressing his plush lips against the quickly purpling skin.

Flip knew you were nowhere near intoxicated enough to not know what was going on, but he didn’t want to rush you into things that you might regret tomorrow. He didn’t want to risk not seeing your pretty little face again just to get his cock in your mouth tonight. No matter how badly he wanted to see you there on the ground outside the disco, bruising your knees for him, his cock deep in your throat, tears falling down your cheeks as-

_Not tonight, not tonight, not tonight._

“Come by the station tomorrow. Don’t even think about covering this up.” He murmured against your skin, referring to the hickey he left, his mark on you. Breathless and at loss for words in your swimming pool of a brain, you nodded your head with fervour at his request.

Flip pulled away from your neck to look into your eyes with such intent, such meaning. _Use your goddamn words,_ he thought.

“Tell me you’ll come.” He wanted to add a ‘please’ at the end of his request, but it wasn’t really a request. No, he needed to see you again. This was not going to be a one off thing, Flip was sure of that. Even after just one night of dancing with you. You smiled up at him and said,

“I’ll come.” 

The double meaning behind your words made you feel hot and look away from him. You’d come as many times as he’d let you, you thought, your heart pounding in your chest at the mere idea of him taking you in any way he wanted, for as long as he wanted, as _hard_ as he wanted. Flip gripped your chin again, forcing you to meet his dark, inky eyes.

“I’m gonna fix that attitude of yours one day.” You smiled up at him, a perfect shit eating grin to match his own. 

“I’m counting on it, _Detective_.”


	2. Mirrorball (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night you first met Flip, he asked you to meet him at the station the following day. You better come prepared.

_“I’m counting on it, Detective.”_

Flip doesn’t know how many times he replayed those words you said to him in his mind. It was now the next day and he still couldn’t stop, couldn’t pause the loop that your voice was on in his brain; echoey, dreamy and ethereal.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. He told you to be here by 6pm, it was now 5:45 and Flip felt like his heart was about to beat straight out of his chest and onto the papers that sat untouched on his desk. He hadn’t done anything for the past thirty minutes besides swivel in his chair and click his pen over and over again; open, closed, open, closed.

His foot was tapping relentlessly against the tile floor as well, it had been going like that all day, and Ron wanted to say something about it, but he knew better than that. Especially since Flip would sass him extra hard seeing as how nervous he was about this meeting of yours.

_LAST NIGHT - OUTSIDE THE DISCO_

Ron and Patrice had more or less awkwardly stumbled upon the two of you after letting you two go off on your own for… how ever long all of that was. Trying to act as though nothing was going on, you jumped into Patrice’s arms and hugged her tightly before moving to hug Ron as well, seeing as you never actually met up with them tonight until now.

Flip shot daggers, shives, knives, hell he shot whatever was sharp enough at Ron and Patrice with his icy stare, fucking _daring_ them to say something about the massive mark he’d left on your neck. This man was not to be intimidated, teased, or made fun of and almost everyone learned that the hard way. Ron and Patrice avoided the subject like the thin ice it was.

_PRESENT - POLICE STATION_

Flip had been fantasizing about that mark he left on you. All. Day. He wondered what it would look like when he saw you later. If it would be darker, if it would have started to change colour, he wondered if you’d dare to cover it up even though he specifically told you not to. He wondered if you'd listen to him. He really hopes you did, otherwise he was just as ready to wipe away whatever concealer you tried to hide it under.

It worked out well for him that it was a Saturday, the station would be much quieter than usual; just him, Ron, and a few newer guys he didn’t know that well. No familiar faces to tease and pull at his strings about him having a woman come by and see him. Flip never invited anyone to the station so it would have been a hot topic amongst his coworkers. He shuddered at the thought, glad he didn’t have to deal with the regular bullshit today - which is exactly why he decided to tell Ron that you were coming, told him _extremely fucking reluctantly._

Ron’s face lit up at the sound of your name but fell slightly the moment Flip held out his finger in Ron’s face.

“Don’t make this into something it’s not, Rookie. She’s just... just coming by to say hi.” Even Flip didn’t sound too sure of himself but Ron didn’t push. He just knowingly smiled at him and nodded his head.

“No one’s making it into anything, partner. She’s a pretty little lady.” Ron shimmied his shoulders and then shimmied himself away down the corridor. Flip watching as Ron skipped away, seemingly happier about this than he was. He could feel a warmth spreading from his cheeks, across his face to the tip of his ears at the slight mention of you.

_Pretty, little, lady._

He threw his head back and groaned, running a hand down his face and plucking himself down at his desk once again. Feet coming up to rest on top of his desk, Flip fished around in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, finding them quickly and lit one up between his lips. 

He had to fucking relax. He just saw you last night and you were putty in his hands. What did he have to be nervous about? Seeing your face in daylight? Seeing if you _did_ cover the hickey? What would it mean if you did? Were you not interested in him, embarrassed maybe? What if you didn’t even show up? He didn’t have your number, you didn’t have his. Maybe he could look through the phone book-

Flip decided that waiting for you was going to be the most painful stakeout he’d ever endured, the longest fucking shift of his career.

//

You gripped the tupperware in your hands a little too tightly, so tight you actually thought you’d break through the plastic if you didn’t ease up on it soon.

Your feet had seemingly carried you across town without a conscious mind directing them, and you were now standing outside the police station, counting your breaths. You had never been inside one before and you weren’t exactly thrilled about it. Cops made you nervous, they made everyone you knew nervous. They weren’t friendly, they were pigs. They-

A slight cracking noise from the tupperware breaks you out of your thoughts. Fuck, you really were going to break it. 

You had made cookies for Flip and you were going to ruin them before he even had one.

_Flip_.

Your nerves eased slightly at the thought of him. He was nice. He was more than nice, and he was a cop. _Detective_ , whatever. He would be in there. Maybe Ron would be too. And that made you feel better. You hoped he liked chocolate chip cookies.

A few more deep breaths and your feet were carrying up the steps and into the precinct. The clock above you on the wall read 6:10pm, not the first time your overthinking made you late. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying the thin flesh to the point where the familiar metallic taste filled your mouth. Fuck were you really bleeding? Now?

A familiar voice called your name. You looked up and found Ron smiling incredibly widley at you.

“Ron.” You smiled, a bit surprised, but mostly just flustered.

“I made cookies.” You said, handing the now open tupperware at him, offering him one.

“I’ve really got to get back to this damn file but thank you, Sweets. Flip’s just through those doors by the way, you’ll have no problem spotting him.” He chuckled with fake urgency, walking away to his desk in another part of the office, you guessed.

You could feel a heat crawl up your neck and bloom across your face, if you had been flustered when you came in, you were incredibly flustered now. What did Flip tell him? He surely couldn’t have told him that much, right?

You took tentative steps in the direction which Ron directed you, soon coming to see that dark head of hair sitting in the middle of a room, closed off by glass doors and windows. A smile crept up your face.

You opened one of the doors quietly so that he didn’t hear you. The room smelled of smoke and you could see a soft stream billowing above his head, his own halo. He wore another red flannel today, but you could tell it was different from the one he wore last night, this one didn’t hug him as tightly, it was roomier. Covering his shoulders and upper back was a holster and you fought to keep your eyes from rolling into your head at the sight. You forgot just how quickly he took your breath away. He wasn’t even facing you yet and you were already trembling.

Those eyes of his, you thought. You couldn’t wait to see them again and how they would shine in the daylight.

You felt like just quietly sitting down in the corner and observing him for the rest of his shift, suddenly curious about what he did all day, but you accidentally walked into the chair of the desk that was directly behind him, causing him to spin around and stand up quickly.

“Hi- _oop_. Sorry.” You stammered, embarrassing yourself already. Nearly tripping over the chair, Flip grabbed your elbow and helped you steady yourself, your skin igniting where he held you. That cool, untouchable iciness you had to yourself last night seems to have completely let you fend for yourself today, leaving you abandoned and a complete clumsy wreck without it. 

“I um, I brought you- I made you some cookies. I thought maybe-”

What you were not expecting, was Flip to cut you off with his lips. You knew at some point today that you both would eventually succumb to whatever tension (sexual or not) settled between the two of you, but you were not expecting it to quite literally hit you the moment you walked in the office room.

You cannot believe you had already forgotten how soft his lips were, how they molded to yours, devoured yours, how he tasted, how it felt to have his strong nose smush into your cheek. Fuck, this was bliss. He pulled away all too soon.

“Fuck, sorry.” He moved away from you a bit, maybe embarrassed at how quickly he had moved on you. His hands fell away from where he gripped you, a little indent remaining. Both of you seem to have lost your confidence from last night, the thought made you smile.

“For such a dancer I would have expected you to have a bit more coordination.” Already quick on his quips, he was trying to deflect from how his nerves were getting the best of him. Despite how his voice made your knees tremble, you could sense the waver in his voice as he ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick. He was nervous. You made him nervous. You found courage in that.

“You’d be surprised, _Detective_ , at the predicaments I find myself in.” You huff unceremoniously trying to emulate that iciness from last night, handing the tupperware filled with cookies to him. He smirked down at the tupperware, his large fingers dancing over a few before tentatively picking one up and bringing it to his plump lips.

“Oh, I’m sure I would be.” He takes a bite, you both moan. Well, you moan internally at his suggestive tone, and he moans outwardly due to the sweet saltiness of the cookie.

“Good?”

“ _Sinful_.” He said, taking another bite and then just shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth. What seemed average sized to you, seemed so much smaller in his hands and in his mouth. He swallowed it with ease and you could feel sweat prickling at the bottom of your neck. Why was he so big? He’s already got you hot and you silently hated him for it. You rolled your eyes, whether at him or yourself, you weren’t too sure.

You looked away from him, breaking his menacing eye contact to look around the office where multiple desks sat in close proximity to each other before moving closer to his and plopping yourself down in his chair. You swivelled in it, not looking at one thing for too long.

His desk was neatly kept; two coffee mugs sat in one corner, a nice little lamp to illuminate his papers once it got dark, too many pens that had the ends chewed up, a rather beautiful glass ashtray where the cigarette he was smoking as you came in laid, an endless stream of smoke billowing out of it, and a pack of cigarettes thrown over the papers. 

You wondered how many late nights he spent here, you wondered what time he usually went home at. Was he exhausted when he returned home? Did he make himself supper? Eat leftovers? Did he just go straight to bed, or read something first? Or did he watch a movie? You found yourself wanting to know every little detail about him, not sure why sitting at his desk felt so intimate and personal.

_A little piece of him_. Everything he deemed absolutely essential to get through the long days laid here.

Flip leaned his butt against the top of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest as you ran your hands over the knobs to the drawers, silently wondering what was inside. He observed you.

Fuck you were so cute, he had almost forgotten it and he hated himself for it. How could he forget a face like that, a smile like yours? That was unforgettable and he hated how fucking corny he sounded even just thinking that. Your legs dangling off his chair, your hands lightly touching his stuff like you were too afraid you might disturb something, put it out of its place and make him have to fix it. 

He was so caught up in watching you that he almost didn’t register that you had stopped what you were doing and looked up at him from his chair, your neck straining from how tall he was in this position.

With a mind of its own, his hand reached out to touch your cheek, his thumb tracing so softly along the skin of your cheekbone. He saw your eyelids flutter, but you kept your eyes open, on him.

You were being so… _obedient_ today, something Flip wasn’t necessarily expecting but something he thought about over the course of the last twenty hours since he last saw you, how you would act if you were being obedient. 

He thought about it as he bid you goodnight and on his drive back home from the disco, he thought about it as he walked through his house, as he put his stuff away, as he climbed into bed, he thought about it into the early hours of the morning where sleep couldn’t find him and he tossed and turned until his hand took care of something he had been trying to ignore, trying hard not to indulge in. He thought about it as his hand stroked himself over and over and over again until your name spilled out of his mouth pathetically and he-

“Want me to show you around?” His own mouth, cutting his derailed mind off and setting it back on track. You bit your lip and nodded your head quickly, standing up from his seat and waiting for him to lead the way. Flip let his hand fall from your cheek naturally, he grabbed another one of your cookies before he left the office room with you following behind him.

For such an unfamiliar building with absolute zero ease of navigation, Flip really seemed to know where he was taking you. You wondered how long he had worked here, how long he had been a _detective_. You even asked him which surprised the both of you for some reason. After taking a moment to think, trying to decide how much to tell you, he told you about how he was stationed in Vietnam before he came to work here as a _detective_. He talked a bit about his training, some past cases which were pretty minor or insignificant but still totally captivating to you.

Flip watched your face light up from the corner of his eyes as he told you some short stories about his time in Colorado Springs as a… _detective_ and you found yourself much more intrigued than you thought you would have been. He laughed at your little gasps, your giggles, or when you tugged on his arm for him to keep going, to not leave you hanging. He really didn’t think about his job as interesting or worth all your intrigue, but seeing you so enthralled by his little stories, well that kind of made his heart skip a beat. Good thing no one he knew at the station was here to witness it.

“This is the final little corner of the station, the records room or file room, whatever. Lots of slightly different names for this hell hole.” Flip muttered, holding the door open for you as you walked into the record room.

It was like a little library, maybe six or seven iron shelved rows filled to the absolute brim with beige folder boxes, file drawers and even more cabinets near the wall in the back. You couldn’t imagine how many names, dates, incidents, trials and tribulations sat tucked away in those boxes. You wonder if he had read all of them, or at least most of them.

“Woah.” You said quietly, walking through the rows, running your hand along the edges of the boxes. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend how these were organized. Alphabetically? By date? Year? Incident type?

“Most boring room in the station, not much to say about this one.” Flip shrugged. He explained how newbies get shoved in here to acclimate to the workplace and get to know everyone, get to know the files, the records, all that mind numbing shit. He kept his eyes trained on you as you moved through the rows, visions of you from last night, twirling and moving through the colourful light of the disco flashing through his mind.

“Can’t tell you how much shit I’ve gotten into from leaving the tiniest coffee ring in the corner of a file sheet…” Flip shook his head, looking at the ground and remembering how some rookie who’s name is now long forgotten (Flip thinks that he got restationed because he couldn’t put up with his shit) tried to tell him off for leaving a stain, trying to tell him that it ruined... something about the file. He can’t even remember, that’s how useless it was. Everyone else at the station had just stared, mouths agape at the rookie who had too much fire for his own good. Flip was pretty amused, he let the rookie spit his words at him before he walked away laughing.

“Oh, I bet.” You giggled, watching him as he delved back into that memory in his mind. You wondered what he was holding back, all the stories about this place that you hoped you would get to hear one day. You hoped he would share more with you but he just looked back down at you with those dark, dark eyes.

You could drown in them.

You wanted to.

The two of you were leaning on adjacent iron shelves, Flip took a tentative step closer to you, his long legs and the narrow rows made it so your chests were nearly touching. Your breath hitched in your throat, scared to breathe.

Flip’s hand came to cradle your throat, letting his palm glide along the skin of your neck, coming to wrap around your jaw, tilting your head up and to the side.

“You didn’t cover it.” His voice, so deep and rich, like molasses. Your hand slid up to your neck, touching the incredibly sensitive skin at his words. The hickey.

“You told me not to.” You said, your voice so, so quiet, matching his. You brought your hand up to wrap around his wrist, his thumb now lazily running itself over the abused skin, feeling your pulse underneath.

You wanted him to bite it, make it hurt more. Leave more on you, you wanted to be covered in them, his kisses, his markings. You wanted everyone to know he did this to you.

_How embarrassing._

“So you do listen.” You could see him smirking and you just stared back at him, under some sort of trance. Maybe it was the dusty air of the record room infecting your brain.

“When I want to, yeah.”

Flip clenched your jaw, pinching your cheeks between his two fingers like he had done so similarly last night only now you weren’t intoxicated, somehow that made his proximity and his grip on you all the more dizzying.

“Are you going to listen today?” He pinched your cheeks harder, you could feel the spit pooling in your mouth. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to drool on him. You looked down between the two of you to see Flip moving his legs so that one of his muscular thighs was resting in between both of your legs, dangerously close to your sex. Just like last night. You nodded your head, looking back up to meet his eyes.

“Use your words-”

“ _Yes!_ Yes I-I’ll listen.” You don’t know what possessed you to answer so quickly, Flip chuckled at that. 

Cute, he thought.

Flip was not expecting you to beg so quickly, to bend to his will and actually listen to him. Maybe he had left you just needy enough last night for it to carry over and actually grow into today to the point where you were _willing_. Willing and capable, all for him.

Looking between your eyes and your lips, Flip plunged. His tongue instantly lured its way into your mouth, and you took him in with no complaints or whines. He shoved you harder against the shelf and you moaned into his mouth, both of you breathing heavily through your noses onto the others cheek. 

Experimentally, you sunk your teeth into Flip’s bottom lip, causing him to growl and kiss you with more fervour, muttering a rough ‘ _fuck_ ’ into your mouth. His body was pressed as close as possible to yours but it was like the two of you couldn’t get close enough, like each of your bodies was trying to inhale the other, to mold and become one.

You had no idea what he had planned for you but the sexual tension that had been building for the last twenty or so hours was blinding you, making you more than desperate for him to touch you or let you touch him. You unconsciously began to ground your hips into his thigh and coming up to graze his bulge as well.

His hand let go of your cheeks, coming down to join the other on your waist, pulling you up, up, up his thigh until your clit met with the rough fabric of his jeans. You gasped and your hands flew up to grab onto his shoulders, grabbing the leather of his holster to steady yourself.

What a day to wear a dress.

Flip stopped kissing you and that same look from earlier, his thinking face, washed over him. You stared, dumbfounded. Unsure of what he was thinking or why he was stopping this two nights in a row now. 

Maybe you did know, maybe you knew what he was thinking and you were playing dumb, or maybe you were just nervous. 

Maybe you just wanted him to _push_ you. Break you even more. Your eyes pleaded with him to tell you, you wanted this to be good. You found yourself _wanting_ to be good for him.

“Tell me.” You asked, lip trembling with want, with need. _Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what you need._

“I- I can’t tell you how badly I want this.”

“Then have this, have me.” You didn’t understand.

“No I, want to have you… the way you deserve. I wasn’t just going to fuck you at the disco and make you think that was it.”

“Then don’t let me think that was it.” He could have just given you his number? What ended up happening today clearly worked out in some way? He was seriously confusing you.

“You’re fucking difficult you know that?” He groaned, rutting his hips against yours and you sighed, just wanting him to give into this.

“I’m trying to tell you I want to take you out on a real date, okay? More than one in fact, I want to see you all the fucking time. And you’re sitting here fucking whining about it.”

His words leave you flustered, breathless, incredibly fucking stunned.

_More than one date._ You couldn’t help but smile, you felt giddy.

“I’m not- I’m not whining about that Flip, I want-” _I want that too_ , you were going to say but Flip cuts you off, again.

“Are you going to listen to me? You said you would.” He asked once more, his voice firmer, deeper, rougher around the edges than the last time he spoke. Fuck, this man was moody. Your hands dug into the holsters that framed his impossibly broad shoulders, you nodded your head. Desperation lacing your movements. 

_Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes._

“Words.”

“Yes, Flip I promise. I’ll be good, I’ll listen, I promise. I need to touch you, let me-” You hand reached from his shoulder to the bulge in his pants. You felt like you were having déjà vu, the resemblance of your situation to that of last night was strange.

“No.” _What_? He stopped your hand in its tracks, his grip was deadly.

“What?”

“You don’t get to touch me.”

“Did I do somethin-”

“You’ll take what I give you.” His grip on your waist was bruising, but you decided against complaining about it. You liked the pain, it felt good to have his fingers digging into your flesh from self-restraint. You wanted his bruises all over your body. 

You were quiet for a moment, letting a beat pass between the two of you, just breathing in the buzzing electricity between your bodies.

“I’ll take anything.” You near close to whine, your voice so, so quiet and your head lulling to the side from how much he was drawing this out. You were becoming dizzier by the second.

“Fuck, that’s what I like to hear.” He huffs, gripping your waist and beginning to grind you down onto his thigh. “You’re going to get off on my thigh, you’ll thank me for it and then I’m gonna take you on the best fucking date you’ve ever been on. Tell me you understand.”

You moaned, loud. The friction was already overwhelming and you brought your hands to his biceps for balance, squeezing the firm muscle there. His arms were massive. You wanted him to crush you with them. This was already becoming too much.

“I understand.”

His hand left your waist and tapped you on your cheek, less than a slap but enough for it to startle you and look up at him. He was waiting for something. Shit, how were you supposed to address him? You stopped undulating your hips as you thought, frozen. He tapped your cheek again, harder this time after no complaint from the first one.

“Did I say you could stop? Keep going and answer me properly this time.”

“Fuck- I understand, _Detective_.” You whined, your eyes screwing shut as you kept grinding your clit along his thigh.

You were near delirious already, the friction was delicious, the thin cotton of your underwear doing nothing to minimize the sensation and you shamelessly moaned as you kept working yourself closer to your release, which was much closer than you would have hoped for.

“I-I’m not gonna last long, Flip- Detective, fuck.” You cried, tears welling in your eyes. You felt so embarrassed, using his thigh to get off while he watched you in the back of the record room. You just hoped he locked the door and that everyone else was far, far away from your cries of pleasure.

Moving one of his hands from your hip up to the edge of your dress where it was rustling against your thigh, Flip grabbed the soft material and lifted it up to reveal your soaked underwear and your frantic little thrusts. You grew hot under his gaze, you wanted to hide from him, hide from those eyes but you couldn’t. Fucking Medusa, frozen rock solid in place, forever.

He was mumbling to himself, your cries were deafening inside your head, your blood pumping _loud_ , you could only make out part of what he was saying.

“Pretty fucking pussy…. So good for me… that’s it.”

You wailed and tried to curl yourself forward, to hide in his warm chest, to cry against his flannel but he held you where you were with the hand that was holding the end of your dress, pushing your shoulders back into the iron frame. Your dress lifted with his hand to expose more of you to him, your cute little underwear, your stomach, clenching and unclenching, and the underside of your breasts.

You were perfect, he thought. He was completely mesmerized. He had never been so forthcoming with a woman before, especially not on the second fucking day of knowing her. But there was something about you that made him lose his fucking mind. He had to have you, he didn’t care which way, and he didn’t care that he was going to make himself wait _longer_ to actually fuck you. He was going to do this properly, you deserved that. Flip had decided you deserved everything. 

The little noises you were making were the prettiest fucking noises Flip had ever heard; music, a symphony filled with his name and little cries, made just for him. He could lose himself in you, he already has. 

He was trying hard not think too much about what it would be like to fuck you for the first time, to get in that tight little pussy and have you cry on his cock. No, if he thought about it too much, he was sure he was going to pass out and he needed to stay focused on you, you were right in front of him, losing yourself on his thigh.

“Flip, I think… can I?”

He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn’t realize you were looking at him with pleading eyes, whining and on the edge of orgasm, tears begging to spill from the precipice. How could he deny you? _Such a pretty crier._

“Cum for me.”

With a few more pathetic thrusts, your hips, legs and whole body convulsed, twitched and you came _hard_ on his thigh. He let you fall towards his chest now as you moaned his name into the fabric, cradling the back of your head and pressing your body firm against him as you rode out your high, the tremors wracking your body. Your nails seemed to try to pierce the leather of his holsters as your body arched into his, trying to get closer, closer, closer.

“Good girl... you did so fucking good.” He shushed you, saying your name quietly. You rubbed your clit on his thigh until you bordered on overstimulation, your limbs tingling as they lost sensation and you gave into him completely, Flip was the only thing keeping you upright at this point.

“So good for me.” He whispered, lips brushing against your temple. You tried to thank him, like he had asked but words escaped you, your brain could not put two and two together besides _Flipflipflipflipflipflip_.

“Th… thank-”

“I know.” He chuckled, shushing you again. You managed to let out a tiny laugh as well, snuggling further into his chest for a moment before leaning back against the shelf, your feet seeming to make contact with the floor for the first time in ages. You sighed happily, breathing returning to normal, finally. You stared dopily up at him, his smile matching yours. You both looked high. You giggled at the thought.

Flip let you off of his thigh and patted your ass as you landed back on the floor, then ducked down, taking your lips into his to kiss you roughly. You moaned and grabbed the hair at the bottom of his head, tugging him down to you further.

“So how about dinner? Tuesday night?” He muttered against your lips, not wanting to pull away from you yet.

“Why not tonight?” Flip slapped your ass again, harder this time and you gasped into his open mouth. He was really about to rile you back up again. And you were already willing him to do so. Your bratty mouth never seemed to stop.

“Can’t, I have a lot of fucking work right now, doll. Tuesday I get off at three.”

“Then I’ll meet you at three on Tuesday?” Flip chuckled again, squeezing the skin on your hips into his hands, making you wince and shove him away but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him. Sometimes he looked like a giant puppy. A stupidly sexy, giant puppy.

“You’ll meet me here on Tuesday at three. Come here on foot like you did today, I’ve got a ride.” He instructed, you nodded your head.

“I understand.” You smiled up at him, hands wrapping around and tugging on his holsters.

Oh, Flip liked that.


End file.
